


Late

by someofthissomeofthat11011



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-24 05:03:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15623148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someofthissomeofthat11011/pseuds/someofthissomeofthat11011
Summary: What if Bram didn’t get Simon’s email in time?





	Late

I think this is the shittiest I’ve felt in a very long time, which considering that I was outed to the entire school just a few weeks ago, is really saying something. I didn’t get any sleep last night, so I kinda feel like something is sitting on my brain, making it impossible to reach the part of my brain that is able to be remotely reasonable. And sleep deprivation aside, I think I’ve just given up. I feel like Blue not showing up last night was kinda my last straw.

I really didn’t expect to feel this way. I had told Blue I’d understand if he didn’t want to do this and maybe I meant that at the time, but the moment it was real, the moment he didn’t show up, I felt crushed. I realize I didn’t actually expect him to stand me up. I really thought that he liked me enough to meet me and the fact that he didn’t made me feel so… insignificant. Like I’m not worth it to him.

I think a small part of me was holding on to Blue - like, it didn’t matter that kids were whispering fag under their breath when they saw me or were shooting me dirty looks as long as I had Blue. Even the good stuff - like all the people that told me they support me - was better because of Blue. Because my hope was that Blue would hear them and maybe he’d realize that everything would be okay if we met. Jokes on me I guess.

I almost called him over a dozen times last night, but if he still meant what he said in that note, surely he would have been there yesterday. No matter how angry I am with him, I’m not going to take away his right to come out to me in his own time - I know how that feels and I can’t do that to him. In the spirit of ensuring that I wouldn’t do something stupid like beg him to meet me, I deactivated my email address around 3am. I knew if I didn’t, I was going to send Blue an email that I’d regret or I was going to have to read some BS apology from him and I really didn’t want to hear it - I still don’t. 

I expect to be in a panic about deactivating my email, but I actually feel like it’s what I was supposed to do. I think if I have to listen to him say that he’s sorry that he’s not ready, I might actually explode. I’m kinda on the brink of that anyway.

I almost didn’t go to school today, but my mom and I actually got into a fight over it and after that, I really didn’t want to be home. So now I’m sitting in my car in front of the school. I’m having a bit of trouble getting my legs to move - like they’re protesting school today just like the rest of me.

Nora stays in my car with me until I’m ready to get out. She doesn’t ask me about what happened last night - I was crying before I made it to my bedroom, something my entire family is aware of. I locked my door and ignored all of their attempts to talk to me. Eventually, after some choice words from me, they gave up. I’m pretty lucky that Nora doesn’t hate me right now, but I definitely have no intention of telling them about Blue. I don’t plan on telling anyone about Blue.

I can’t deal with their looks of pity on top of everything else. And if I talk about Blue, I’m pretty sure I’ll give myself away. It was bad enough when I was leaving the carnival and Abby asked me if I found the guy I was looking for. I hadn’t been able to say anything. I just walked away from her. If she knew that I fell in l- no. No. Absolutely not. I’m not going there, because once I go there, I’ll never get over him.

The late bell rings before I get out of my car, but Nora doesn’t complain. I’m dreading today and I’m tempted to just sit in my car all day, but I can see that Nora’s not thrilled about being late so I force myself from my car. I stand outside my car pretending that I’m being extra careful about where I’m putting my keys in my bag, but really I’m trying to decide whether school is really that important. Maybe I should just get back in my car and play hookie today. Hookie can be healthy.

But I have no idea what to do if I can’t go home and I have to drive Nora home after school. Plus, I can’t be that person - the kind of guy that falls apart every time a relationship doesn’t work out. Hell, Blue wasn’t even a real relationship. I only knew him over email, so I really shouldn’t be falling apart like this.

Knowing I shouldn’t be falling apart, doesn’t change the fact that I am. No matter what I try to tell myself, he was more real than any of the girls I dated which means that this is hitting me extra hard. I’m a little ashamed to admit that I used to judge all the people that used to fall to pieces after breakups. It’s not just the loss of someone I care about, though that sucks in itself. I feel like I have to relearn who I am now that he’s not in my life. I didn’t realize how significant our emails had been or how much I had come to depend on him until he was gone. I will never judge someone going through a breakup again. 

As I’m entering the school, I decide that if I can’t make it through the day, I’ll just leave. I feel like I’ll make it as long as I manage to avoid having to talk to anyone. I’m pretty successful until lunch when Abby asks me what happened at the carnival.

Even as I’m saying it, I know that “none of your fucking business” is a little excessive. I immediately feel bad about it, which is really exactly what I need right now. It doesn’t help that Abby has this way of making herself look small and vulnerable when she’s upset.

I know I owe Abby the mother of all apologies… but not right now. Because I know I’ll only make things worse right now. Just like I always do. I messed up everything with Blue and I think I’ll be lucky if Leah ever talks to me again. And I can’t lose Abby on top of losing them. So I get up and walk out. I spend lunch in the back corner of the library. I don’t know what I look like, but it’s not pathetic enough that anyone stops to ask me what’s wrong. So I get to spend my lunch sulking in misery without anyone bugging me. It’s the first time I’ve actually let myself be upset about it; I spent most of last night trying to avoid feeling like shit. And honestly, I feel so much better afterwards - not good, but better.

When the bell rings, I reluctantly force myself to my feet. The very last thing I want to do right now is sit through Algebra. I’m pretty sure I’m going to fall asleep the second I’m in my seat. It’s like my fatigue chose now to really hit me. All morning I was out of it and tired, but now I reached that point where staying away another minute seems impossible.

It seems I’m not the only one that doesn’t want me to sit through Algebra, because as I’m about to walk into class, Bram Greenfeld grabs my arm and starts to drag me after him. We’re halfway down the hallway before I fully realize what he’s doing. And then I panic.

Is this a fight? Am I about to get in a fight? I’ve never been in a fight before; is this how they start? But I’ve watched fights that broke out around school and if this were a fight, wouldn’t he just try to beat me up now? Why would he be dragging me after him? Shit, is this like in the movies where the guy gets beat up and is left for dead in a dark, dirty alley? Does our school even have a dark, dirty alley?

I’m definitely not about to find out. I push out of his hold. “What the hell?” I ask. I’m surprised by how loud and angry I sound, but I don’t expect this from Bram. I mean he’s been sitting at my lunch table since I got outed and if anyone is going to beat me up, I figured it would be one of the assholes that have been making fun of me these past three weeks.

It’s probably a good thing that most people are already in class, because there’s only two people in the hall with us and only one of them looks like they’re working through some internal conflict about whether or not they should be late for class.

“I’m so sorry,” Bram says. He almost looks desperate, which I don’t understand. Is someone putting him up to this? Is he apologizing in advance because he doesn’t really want to do this?

We must look harmless, because the last person in the hall runs to class as the late bell rings. Bram doesn’t make any attempt to move, which may shock me more than anything else because I don’t think he’s ever been late to class. History textbooks might be written about this moment.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask. Maybe I’m stalling. If I delay him long enough then maybe a teacher will tell us to get to class before whatever he’s planning can happen. But the hallway is remarkably empty. Literally, the only time I’ve ever wanted to see a teacher and there’s no one. What are teachers even good for? Bram bites his lip and suddenly, I feel like a complete idiot. I don’t know if it’s because he looks so freaking innocent or because some of my sleep haze is starting to clear, but reason is catching up with me and I realize Bram is definitely not the kind of person that would fight me. I mean, he literally looks so nervous about something that he’s starting to fidget. He’s like the poster boy for unthreatening. I cover up my embarrassment with anger. “If you’re not going to say anything, can I get to class? I really don’t need to get in trouble with school with everything else I have going on.” 

Someone leaves their classroom and looks at us curiously. Bram waits until they get in the bathroom to say anything. “I’m sorry, okay?” He says. There’s a bite to his words that I don’t expect and as the silence stretches before us, I try to figure out what I did to offend him. Maybe he’s mad at me on behalf of Abby. He’d just arrived as I stormed out of the cafeteria, but I have no doubt they filled him in.

“If I say I forgive you, can I go?” I ask. I internally cringe. I know that wasn’t the right thing to say, but to my surprise he doesn’t look angry. He just looks upset. He doesn’t get to say anything right away, because that kid must have the fastest pee in the world. He’s also a pretty fast walker, so he’s back in his classroom in no time.

“I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t see it until this morning and then I tried to explain to you that I would have been there if I had known, but the email bounced back and said your email address wasn’t valid. I tried sending that message a bunch of times in the hopes because I thought it was some weird gmail error at first. I even tried sending it from a different email address, but I got the same message. And then I felt extra shitty because I realized you thought I chose not to go and I would never do that to you, but you probably didn’t realize that because I have been a bit of an ass to you. I just figured that since you never called me that we were just done and I never thought you would have sent me an email instead of calling or texting me. I don’t want you to think that you’re the only one that feels this way. I feel it too and I really am ready for you to know and please… just don’t hate me.”

I’m staring at him and I can’t help it. He spoke so fast, I feel like his words don’t make sense. But the more I think them through the more I realize they make sense, I just don’t believe it. “I didn’t know you curse.” It’s quite possibly the stupidest thing I could have said, but I don’t think my brain was awake enough to handle the rest of it.

“Is that all you can say?” he asks exasperatedly.

It very well might be, because when I try, all I manage is, “you’re… you’re…” I can’t get it out. A girl goes to the water fountain and I take that time to think about what Bram said. It’s so impossible. And then I realize it  _ is _ impossible… Blue wants nothing to do with me - everything about these last three weeks has proven that - and I’m not willing to get my hopes up. Once she’s back in her classroom, I ask, “did Martin put you up to this?” Except, the moment the words are out of my mouth, I realize he couldn’t have. 

It’s not like anyone knew that I had asked Blue to meet me last night. Martin’s not an idiot, but I doubt even he would have made the leap from my weird behavior to that. And then there is the fact that Bram knew about my email being deactivated. Then again, Martin knew what my email address was, so he could have confirmed that part of it. He sent me an email after we fought the first day back to school - an email that I immediately deleted without reading (I didn’t need him to say he was sorry for what happened during and after practice; I needed him to have never outed me, but this isn’t the kind of thing he can undo). And Martin couldn’t have known that Blue gave me that t-shirt… unless he’s the one that gave me that t-shirt. No, I remind myself. I ruled out Martin. He can’t be Blue.

“Martin? What does Martin have to do with anything?” Bram asks. He doesn’t look as clueless as he sounds which is making it more likely that Martin had something to do with this, no matter how far-fetched it is. There’s always a sliver of possibility that maybe Blue is an entire group of people like a conspiracy. Except, I don’t think I’m important enough to warrant a conspiracy and I don’t think a group of high schoolers could sound like one person. There would have been some disconnect in the emails.

So maybe it’s not a conspiracy, but I’m still pretty sure that Martin has something to do with Bram standing in front of me right now. “That’s it isn’t it? Abby starts dating Nick and the blackmail never stops with him, does it? Well you can tell him I said ‘fuck you’ and that he can stop messing with my head,” I grumble.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bram is studying me. “Blackmail? What was Martin blackmailing you about?” I look at the ground. If Martin doesn’t have anything to do with him standing in front of me, then there really is only one way that he would know about those emails. “It was our emails, wasn’t it? I heard you blow up at him after soccer practice.”

Ah. That infamous blow up. I didn’t know I had an audience for that. I figured once Abby went to wait for the late bus and all the soccer kids went to the locker room, I would have complete privacy. “Wait, how? I went straight to my car once your practice was over.”

“I did too,” he admits. “I had all my stuff with me because I was leaving straight from practice… a bunch of the guys were talking about you in the locker room before practice; Garrett and Nick could only tell them to shut up so many times. Nick almost started throwing punches. But I couldn’t deal with it after practice as well.”

“That’s just great,” I grumble sarcastically. I’m not surprised. I mean, I heard what guys were saying when I was in the locker room with them. I’m not naive enough to think that I wouldn’t be the butt of several jokes. But it’s different to have it confirmed. “Icing on top of the cake.”

“Sorry. I guess you didn’t need that right now,” he admits. He shuffles uncomfortably. 

I shrug. “So you’re really Blue?” I ask.

He nods and looks at me guiltily. “I really didn’t know that you sent me an email. I spent most of my weekend with Garrett trying to figure out how I could tell you who I am. I never even thought… we’ve sent like two emails since you were outed and…” He lets out a huffy breath. “I’m really sorry. I know how you felt-”

“No you don’t,” I interrupt. “You can’t possibly know what it’s like to be outed against your will and then to suddenly be ignored by the guy you…” I look away from him and shake my head. I’m not even ready to admit that to myself, no way in hell am I telling him right now. And yeah, maybe my anger is unwarranted at this point. Sure, he didn’t mean to stand me up last night. But he did. And that dredged up a lot for me. “It’s not even about the carnival. I felt like you were the only one that could possibly understand me and the moment I needed you, you disappeared on me. And I get that I screwed up. I was careless and I got outed-”

“You think I stopped talking to you because you got outed?” he asks incredulously. We’re quiet for a couple of minutes as one kid goes to the bathroom. The moment he disappears behind the door, another kid spends over a minute at the water fountain. As he’s finishing up, some girl spends three minutes at her locker frantically looking for something. My guess is an assignment that she left home, but the more notebooks she looks through, the more upset she gets, so I try not to get annoyed by how long she’s taking. When all hope is lost, she slams her locker shut and walks like a snail back to her classroom.

“Well didn’t you?” I ask confused.

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t care less about that… well, I mean I cared because it was upsetting you, but I didn’t care otherwise. I was crushed. I don’t even care if I sound dramatic. You guessed I was someone else and then Abby was talking about how you were crushing on Cal… and I just felt like our emails meant nothing to you.”

“They meant everything to me,” I tell him seriously. “Abby blew that way out of proportion. I thought you were Cal, but then you weren’t. He flirted with me, but it didn’t mean anything. And that’s all Abby saw. She saw him telling me that he’s bi and flirting with me a little” - I cut myself off as someone goes to the water fountain - “and honestly, you should know better than to listen to Abby because she’s a drama queen and is quite possibly more invested in my love life than I am and she’s accused half the school of being gay in the last three weeks… I don’t think there are even that many gay guys in the entire state of Georgia.” I’m rambling and I know it, but I can’t help it. It’s kind of like one of those moments where every part of me is telling my mouth to shut up and my mouth is giving the rest of me the finger. “Once I knew Cal wasn’t you, I couldn’t make myself interested in him. And believe me. I tried. When you started ignoring me, I thought it would be so easy to just find someone else and move on. But I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” He asks. 

I look down at the floor. I may feel it, but it’s another thing entirely to try to say it out loud. “You became my best friend in a way. I tried to run away from that, because acknowledging that I lost you was too hard. But no matter what I tried, there you were. I couldn’t think about anyone else,” I grumble. “I was pissed, because it’s like I belonged to you, but you didn’t want me.” 

Jesus Christ. How many people are gonna leave their classes? It’s right after lunch so surely they had more than enough time to do what they needed to do before class. Mr. Smith doesn’t even let us leave unless it’s an absolute emergency. This seems so excessive. At least this kid grabs what he needs from his locker and gets back to his classroom in no time.

“I do though,” he says in an impossibly quiet voice.

We’re quiet for a long time, because neither of us knows what to say. It occurs to me that we skipped most of Algebra at this point. I don’t say anything for a minute, because I’m terrified that he’ll leave and we’ll never finish this conversation. Almost as terrified as I am to finish this conversation. “What now?” I ask when the silence becomes unbearable.

He fidgets. “We need to sit down and talk. Really talk,” he says. “More than we can do in the middle of the hallway when we’re supposed to be in Algebra.” He suddenly looks horrified. “We cut Algebra. I’ve never cut a class before.”

I can’t help myself as I start to laugh. It’s just hilarious to me that we’re in the middle of this tense conversation and he’s concerned that we’re skipping class. If I needed more proof that he’s Blue, I just got it.

I glance at the clock on the wall. I don’t know why I bother. It’s been broken since before I started at Creekwood and it’s not for lack of trying. For whatever reason, it almost instantly breaks once they try to fix it and I guess replacing it is out of the question. It’s kinda like a running joke with us, because if they can’t fix a freaking clock, what can they do?

“Well according to that, we’re either eight hours late for class or it’s going to start in four hours. So you can tell Mr. Smith you got confused,” I suggest.

Bram chuckles. He glances at the watch on his wrist. “I guess there’s no point in going right now. There’s ten minutes left.” He gets a really weird look on his face. “I’ve never done this before, but Garrett has and he said it’s a sure fire way to get excused from school. Do you want to go to the nurse and tell her we don’t feel well?”

I literally don’t think I could be more shocked if I tried. Bram is suggesting this. Bram, who just freaked because we’re cutting Algebra, is suggesting that we ditch school.

“What?” I’m thinking that I maybe misheard him.

“If you don’t want to, I totally understand,” he says quickly. “I just think the longer we wait to talk, the more anxious we’ll be and then… I don’t know. I just worry we’ll never talk about it and we’ll be in this really weird place until we graduate and I don’t want that.”

“What do you want?” I ask.

He looks me right in the eye. “I want to get sent home by the nurse. I want you to follow me back to my place. And then I want us to figure this out… together. I meant what I said in my note.” He looks down at the floor and I can’t help but smile. I’m still frustrated with him, but now it’s more of a mutual frustration - I could have done so much to prevent this as well. And we definitely need to talk about all that so his idea doesn’t sound too bad.

Garrett was right. It is easy to convince the nurse we’re too sick to stay in school, but not so sick that we can’t drive ourselves home. It’s actually a little too easy. She definitely shouldn’t have let us walk out of the school like that, but by the look of pity she gave me, I have a feeling my being outed had more to do with it than our cover-up of being sick.

I follow Bram back to his house. I have to be back at the school in two hours to pick up Nora - I think she might actually kill me if I ask her to take the bus. I make a mental note to tell Bram about that, but I’m entirely unable to focus on anything but him once I get to his house.

I look around and marvel at the fact that this is where a lot of the memories Bram shared with me took place. We stop by the kitchen so he can grab some water and all I can think about is that this is where he came out to his mom and listened to her infamous sex talk. It’s where he had a pancake eating competition with his cousins when he first moved here so he would forget that he left behind his school and friends. We walk through the living room to get to the stairs and I think about how Bram had a Harry Potter movie marathon in here. Because he’d never seen them before and when he found out how much I loved Harry Potter, he wanted to see them so he could share that part of me.

Then finally, we get to his bedroom. It is really clean - like REALLY, REALLY clean. I think hospital rooms are less clean than this. The posters and pictures on his walls are perfectly straight and there’s the exact same space between every poster or picture. I expect nothing less from him and I grin at how utterly Blue this room is. Sitting on his desk is his computer.

Before I’m able to go off on a mental tangent, I’m distracted by Bram sitting on his bed and playing with his fingers. “Why didn’t you call?” He asks in a small voice.

“I didn’t see your note until yesterday,” I explain. I feel extremely exhausted and I don’t sit next to him, simply because I’m pretty sure that if I do, I’ll fall asleep and then we’ll never talk. “I didn’t wear it until I went to the carnival.”

“So you just what? Cast it aside?” He asks annoyed.

I look away from him. There is a 0% chance that I’m going to tell him that I’d been sleeping with it under my pillow. No chance in hell. I’m not  _ that _ tired. “No. I kept it someplace safe.”

He seems to accept that. At least, if he doesn’t he’s doing a poor job of showing it. “I don’t know what to say,” he admits. “I always thought this would come so easily, but I feel so guilty.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty.” I sigh and decide to sit next to him on his bed. At least if I fall asleep, it’ll be in his house and he won’t really be able to leave and never come back. Oh my god. His bed is so freaking comfortable. All I want to do is lay down and succumb to the pull of sleep. But we have to talk. Shouldn’t adrenaline make me wide awake right now? If there were ever a time for adrenaline to kick in it’s now. “I’m just tired and cranky. You didn’t do anything wrong. You’re not the one that checked your email from a school computer and got caught. This all started with me. He gently tugs on my shoulder so I’m laying down next to him, our shoulders lightly touching. I expect to feel wide awake, but I think I already feel the same way about Bram that I did about Blue - like he’s my safe space, so knowing we’re in the middle of a conversation is doing nothing to make me feel less tired.

I think gravity works better in his bedroom, because suddenly it’s a battle to keep my eyes open. “No, you were right. I was ignoring you after you got outed and even if it wasn’t for the reasons you thought, I should have been more open-minded. And I should have given you the chance to explain before I jumped to conclusions.”

“Why didn’t you?” It was a very un-Blue thing for him to do. Blue was usually so calm and rational. He always got all sides of a story. We once talked for days about the three little pigs and how the big bad wolf was going to look like the bad guy from the pigs’ perspectives, but we don’t know what his motives are, so we can’t be sure he was the bad guy - it’s no surprise he wants to be a lawyer.

“I was a coward.” He’s looking up at his ceiling, so I do the same thing. I don’t think it’s helping because there’s nothing interesting about his plain, white ceiling “I thought if I got ahead of it and distanced myself from you, then maybe I never would have to hear you say that you found someone else.”

“That’s ridiculous. How could there be anyone else when there was still you?” I ask. I’m not sure if that made a whole lot of sense, because his bed is really, really comfy and it’s really a struggle not to fall asleep on him. I yawn big and force my eyes wide open in the hopes that it will wake me up a bit. “You are the only one I want. And yeah, when I didn’t know who you were, I saw you in people you weren’t.” I hear him roll onto his side, but I don’t turn to look at him yet. I think I fall asleep for a split second, because when I open my eyes I feel weirdly confused and alert in an exhausted way, and the last time I felt like this I was dozing off in English class. I force myself to keep talking in the hopes that I won’t fall asleep mid-sentence. I don’t know how successful I am or if I’m even coherent, because I’m barely aware of what I’m saying. “But at the end of the day, when I found out they weren’t you, I wasn’t interested. Because I fell in love with you. With your love of office supplies and the way you feel about homecoming and the way that you go out of your way to consider your mom’s feelings and how you’re funny in such an innocent way. No one else is those things, because there’s only one you.” I finally turn to face him and there’s a strange look on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You said you’re in love with me.” He looks like he can’t believe his words. I can’t either. I try to wrack my brain to figure out if I actually am that stupid, but the words are already gone, like I never said them. But I must have, because the look he’s giving me makes me feel like mush.

“Well, I’ve gotten like an hour of sleep the past two nights, so I can’t be held accountable for anything I say.” His face falls and it makes my heart feel like someone is squeezing it in my chest. The next words are out before I make the decision to say them. “Ask me tomorrow, because I want you to know I mean it.”

“Why don’t you get some sleep?” Bram suggests. “And we can talk when you’re more awake.”

I’m already half asleep when I mumble, “but I have to drive Nora home.”

“I’ll wake you up before school gets out,” he promises.

That’s all I need to succumb to the sleep that’s been calling to me all day.

Except, he totally lied because when I wake up, it’s pitch black out and I feel like I’ve been asleep for days. I’m so warm and comfortable that I don’t want to move, but I realize that it’s too dark. “Shit, Nora,” I say, sitting up straight.

I didn’t realize that the warmth that surrounded me was Bram and I don’t think his wake-up call could have been less pleasant. “Are you alright?” He asks me anxiously. His voice is still sleep-heavy. My eyes are still adjusting to the darkness, but I can just make out the outline of his face.

“What time is it? I was supposed to pick up Nora and I’m still grounded.” I’m focusing on those things, because it’s way easier to think about that then it is to acknowledge that I fell asleep with Bram. I honestly don’t remember much of our conversation before I fell asleep, which makes me convinced that I made an ass of myself. I’m a little worried that I may have fallen asleep in the middle of something important. I’m also pretty sure that I’m somehow responsible for our sleeping arrangements, but he doesn’t look upset about that.

“I picked her up. I couldn’t get you to wake up. And Nora said she’d tell your parents that you’re here,” he says quickly. “And to answer your first question, it’s about-” he squints at his watch “A little after 2.”

“I slept for 12 hours.” I don’t say it like a question, but I still half expect him to deny it.

“I figured you needed it.”

I can’t argue with that. I’m surprised that I still feel tired, but I have a feeling that has more to do with the fact that it’s dark and cold than anything else. Then something dawns on me. He couldn’t get me to wake up. That means I definitely didn’t have anything to do with falling asleep with him. “You got into bed with me.”

Even in the dark, I can see him bite his lip and look down. “Sorry, I-”

“Don’t apologize,” I interrupt. “I’m not mad. I just… does this mean I didn’t ruin things?”

I’m surprised when he holds my hand and I see his eyes fix on me. “You could never ruin things.”

This tense silence spreads between us and suddenly we’re kissing. And oh my god, what a kiss. I’m suddenly wide awake and everything is magnified. I feel like I’m seeing him through our touches. And I can’t get close enough to him. And suddenly I’m wondering how long we have to wait before we can talk about sex, because I can feel that I’m not the only one that wants more. I have a feeling one day is too soon, but is it really? I mean, we’ve been talking for five months at this point. Lots of couples have sex way earlier than five months. Hell, people have sex with complete strangers. Nick lost his virginity to this girl he met at a party our sophomore year, so it’s not like there’s an official timetable for this. But is it different when it’s not a casual fling and it’s a boyfriend?.

My eyes fly open and I push him slightly. He immediately pulls back. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong?” He asks.

I probably would have laughed, but I can tell he’s serious. “No. That was seriously freaking perfect and we will get back to that.” I draw my strength from the darkness around me. It’s easy to ask the question that’s burning inside my chest, because I know I’ll minimally see his reaction. “Are we boyfriends?”

“I think I’d like that.”

“Me too.” I’m smiling and I wonder if he can see how unbelievably happy that makes me. All I want to do is kiss him again, but he’s sitting up a little straighter right now and something tells me that I need to wait.

The tension builds up around us until Bram quietly asks, “do you remember what you said before you fell asleep?”

“I only remember bits and pieces,” I admit.

“You said you loved me.”

Why did I say that? Why did I think that was a good idea? If he doesn’t feel the same way… I have to get ahead of this. After Halloween, Nick had told me that drunk words are sober thoughts and I have a feeling Bram knows the same thing applies here, so there’s no point in denying it. I just have to take the pressure off of him. “Yeah, well… I really think I do. And look, you’re seriously under no pressure. I get that you may need some time, because not everyone falls in love over email. I promise I won’t be mad,” I ramble. What can I say? I may be wide awake, but my brain is still an expert at making me sound like an idiot.

“But it’s not just you,” he says. “I love you too.”

And then we’re kissing again. And it’s magic. I’m aware of feelings I didn’t know existed before. It’s easy enough to read about lust and characters that are filled with lust, but that’s nothing compared to what it actually feels like. It’s like a flame burning in my stomach that spreads throughout my body. The flames demand to be fed and I want so badly to feed them. More than I want anything else in that moment. And then there’s this intense feeling of love. So different then lust, yet calling for the same thing: to get closer to Bram.

And in that moment, I know I am ready. I know we’re not going to do anything tonight - we’re gonna do this right. We’re gonna have a long talk about us and we’re gonna figure out what we’re both comfortable with. And then, when we do have sex, it’s not going to be in the middle of the night when his mom is down the hall from us. The thought almost makes me break the kiss, because I have a feeling that if she knew what we were doing, Bram’s not the only one that would have to live through her every-time-including-oral sex talk. It only now occurs to me that that will probably apply to me very, very soon.

I force those thoughts from my head and focus on kissing Bram. And the kissing is honestly more than enough. When we break apart - and we have to break apart or else we’re gonna go way further than we should tonight, he holds me and I find myself drifting back to sleep within minutes. Kissing should be considered a sport, because it definitely requires exceptional endurance and it’s exhausting - in the best way.

Bram’s alarm wakes us up the next morning and despite the excessive amount of sleep I got, I don’t want to get out of bed. He’s just so freaking comfortable. I expect his muscles to be hard and to make it difficult to rest my head on his shoulder, but despite the fact I know they’re there - and believe me, I learned every contour of his muscles last night - I don’t feel them now.

We lay there for a few minutes until a knock at the door has us jumping apart. “I’m making pancakes,” his mom calls.

I glance at the alarm clock on his desk. He wakes up ridiculously early. It’s only 6am. We don’t have to be at school until 8:30. “Why do you wake up so early?” I ask.

“Because I like to have a lot of time in the morning. My mom leaves for work before 7, so this means I can have breakfast with her and I have time to double check my homework and do some chores,” he explains. He stretches a little and pushes himself up into a seated position.

I sigh. I guess we’re really getting out of bed. I reluctantly force myself from the comfort of his bed and I glance down at my rumpled clothes. “Do you have a shirt I can borrow? I think that will make school feel less like a walk of shame today.”

He chuckles. “Yeah. We wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea.” He looks in his drawer and throws me a t-shirt.

I don’t catch it, because I’m suddenly nervous. “Do we want to give them any idea. And I’m not talking about last night. Do you want people to know?”

He bites his lip. “ I want our families to know, because I definitely plan to see a lot more of you and they deserve to know. And I know this isn’t fair of me because of everything you went through, but I want a couple of weeks.”

“Okay,” I say quietly. That’s better than I expected. I wasn’t sure if he’d want to be out at all and this feels like best case scenario. At least he’s kinda giving himself a deadline. “What about Nick, Abby, Leah, and Garrett?”

Bram looks down. “Garrett already knows,” he admits. “I mean he doesn’t know about anything that happened yesterday, but he’s been rooting for us as a power couple since I came out to him. As for Nick, Abby, and Leah - I’m going to sound like the world’s biggest jerk, because it’s really not fair that Garrett knows and they don’t, but I’m worried… Abby can be…”

“Obvious?” I guess. I mean, he’s not wrong. Practically the whole school thought I was crushing on Cal because of her (including Cal, which was really freaking awkward). I think if our positions were reversed, I’d probably be reluctant about that too. She means well. She just gets so excited about some things. “You know, I came out to her months ago and she never did anything to give that away.”

“This is different,” he says. I see actual fear in his eyes. “If she knows we’re together, then she’s not going to stop staring at us. You should have seen her when you talked to that kid from our Algebra class. I was practically convinced that you liked him and I know he has a girlfriend. Plus, if she’s suddenly uninterested in you spending time with me, that will be equally suspicious.”

I sigh. I guess he’s not wrong. That doesn’t stop me from being frustrated. Why does this get to happen on his timeline, but not mine? “I can’t keep this from them forever.” I don’t even try to hide my anger.

“You can tell them before I come out. I meant what I said. I don’t plan on hiding for long. I just want a few more weeks to get used to the idea that people will know about me and before our relationship is in a spotlight. If you need it to be earlier, if you need it to be now, I’ll do that for you. I would just rather wait.” Just like that, my anger disappears. He’s just as scared as I was when I was first outed. And school hasn’t been horrible, but it hasn’t been great either. And it’s definitely different. If he wants to prepare for that difference, who the hell am I to stop him?

“No. If you want some time, we’ll take some time. Sorry. You’re right. If you can take some time and really be ready, then that’s what I want for you. I don’t want anything to take that away from you.” More than anything, that’s what I had wanted for myself. I wanted to come out when I was ready. I wanted to be proud of my sexuality before anyone had the chance to make me feel less than because of it. If I can give that to Bram, I will. Just because an asshole screwed up my coming out, doesn’t mean I have to screw up Bram’s.

“Thanks.” He turns away from me to grab his jeans. I know I should, but I don’t look away when he changes for school. “There is one more thing I want to make sure you’re okay with.” He turns to face me as he’s buttoning his jeans. He’s still shirtless, which is absolutely cheating, because it’s definitely not just half asleep Simon that becomes completely incoherent at the sight of it. I’m pretty sure I would have been okay with just about anything and I’m about to tell him so when I hear him laugh. “Oh my god. Can you get your mind off of sex for at least ten seconds?” His grin is huge and mischievous and I love every bit of it. 

“What makes you think I’m thinking about sex?” I ask defensively. And I mean, I am, but how could I not when he’s standing in front of me half dressed AND he’s not even trying to make himself decent. It’s like dangling a cookie in front of a toddler and telling them not to think about the cookie.

“Because you’re staring at my chest and not at me… I’m starting to feel objectified.” Yeah, I’m really freaking sure that he isn’t because now he’s stretching and he’s smiling at me in that same mischievous way and he hasn’t made a single attempt to put on a shirt. He knows exactly what he’s doing and I can tell he’s enjoying teasing me. 

Where the hell did this come from? Bram is quiet and shy and reserved and yeah, he’s really freaking sexy, but I didn’t expect him to know that. Especially not considering how humble and innocent he was in his emails. But he’s obviously aware of it right now.

I feel like I snap out of a weird haze when he puts on his shirt. “I think we need to have a long talk tonight,” I say quietly. My voice sounds weird, even to me.

He nods slowly and bites his lip. “I think I want to too, but don’t you think it’s too soon?” he asks.

“I don’t think there’s a ‘too soon’,” I tell him. “It’s whether you’re ready or not that matters, not how long you’ve been together. Plus, if you think about it, we’ve been together five months. Which is much, much longer than most couples wait.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I guess you're right,” he agrees. “And I can’t deny that I want to… we’ll talk after school, but that’s really not what I was referring to before.”

“Then what were you talking about?” I ask.

“I need to tell my mom about you over breakfast.” He looks down at the floor. “I understand if you don’t want to be there for that, but when I told her you were staying over last night, we hadn’t really talked about what we were and now that we have, I have to tell her.”

“Do you want me there for that?” I ask. Somehow, I’d already forgotten that we’d have to tell our families. However, I’d put money on my family already jumping to that conclusion. If they aren’t convinced that Bram’s my boyfriend then… then nothing. I’m sure they know. That’s all there is to it.

He frowns for a minute. “I think I do. My mom’s going to want to get to know you,” he tells me.

I fidget nervously, but I guess he’s not wrong. “Then before we go down, there’s something I need to say.” I can feel his gaze on me, but I don’t look over. I may not remember everything that we talked about as I was in the process of falling asleep yesterday, but I remember school. “I was such an ass at school yesterday. I never should have gotten so angry with you. You didn’t deserve that.”

When I look up at him, his face is devoid of emotions. He slowly walks around his bed until he’s standing in front of me. “We both did things we regret after you were outed. I shouldn’t have turned my back on you after you were outed, no matter how upset I was that you didn’t know who I was. You shouldn’t have assumed the worst about me when I didn’t show up on Sunday. We both should have talked about what we were feeling instead of allowing our anger to control us. But you know what? I couldn’t care less about any of that. Because we’re together. Despite our stupidity, we ended up exactly where we should be. And at the end of the day, what matters is that I love you.”

I feel myself blushing. His words sound like a monologue in a movie, but I wouldn’t want him to change a single word. “I love you too.”

He holds my hand and leans down so his forehead is pressed against mine and for a minute, we just stand like that. I let my eyes flutter shut. This somehow feels more intimate than all the kissing we did last night. It’s the feelings of closeness and possibility and love.

He kisses my forehead before he drops my hand and we walk down to his kitchen. There’s a big plate of pancakes in the middle of the table and his mom is sitting at the head of the table reading a newspaper. She puts it down when she notices us and I feel my heart drop to my stomach when she fixes me with her piercing gaze. She doesn’t look angry, but suddenly I’m sure she knows. 

“Did you sleep well?” She asks me.

I know I should answer her, but I don’t think I could make a sound if I tried. She knows. She definitely knows. I manage to nod.

Bram takes his seat and it takes me over a minute to take the spot next to him. Now, I want to point out. I really thought I was the most oblivious person in the world, but Bram is digging into his pancakes like nothing’s wrong. He can’t possibly miss the way that his mom is staring at us. I mean, even I’m aware of it!

When he shows no sign of acknowledging his mom, who is starting to glare at him, I nudge him. He looks at me surprised and then looks at his mom. “Oh. Right,” he says quickly. “Mom, this is Simon. Simon, this is my mom.”

She looks marginally happier after that and I wonder if that’s all she was trying to tell him. I’m beginning to think I was overreacting. “It’s wonderful to meet you Ms. Greenfeld,” I say graciously.

“It’s nice to meet you to. So you and Bram are… classmates.” I’m pretty sure it’s not my imagination that she hesitates before saying classmates.

Even Bram notices because he clears his throat uncomfortably. “Actually mom, I wanted to talk to you about that. Simon and I are… well, we’re boyfriends.”

I smile in what I hope is a confident, yet humble way. But I think I might just be grimacing at her. She doesn’t look even a little surprised. “How long?” She asks.

“Just since yesterday,” Bram assures her. “We’ve been talking since August, but we only became official yesterday.”

“So you’re coming out at school?” I have a feeling that her question is directed towards both of us, which surprises me. I wonder if Bram intentionally never talked about me to her. Was he ashamed? I force those thoughts from my head. Bram’s not ashamed of me. If he didn’t tell his mom, he had his reasons.

Bram looks down at the table. Even I can see his guilt. “Not yet,” I pitch in on his behalf. “We want a few weeks to be able to enjoy being together before people know - with the exception of you and my family of course. We saw how people took my coming out and we want a few drama-free weeks.”

“You’re out at school?” She looks surprised and her forehead is creased as if she’s trying to understand.

“Yeah. Let’s just say it didn’t happen on my terms,” I shrug. I look at Bram, hoping that he’ll say something to change the subject.

“So my first soccer scrimmage is the day before Valentine’s Day,” he says. I have to bite back my laughter. I don’t think he’s an expert at smoothly changing the subject and I kinda love it.

Bram’s mom rolls with it. “Against who?”

“Fairburn,” Bram tells her. “Should be a good game. They’ve got a really good team.”

“I’ll add it to my calendar,” she promises. Bram bites his lip and glances at me, then looks back at his mom. She looks thoughtful for a minute before she nods. “I’ve got to get ready for work, but we’ll talk more tonight.”

I wait until she’s gone. “What was that about?” I ask.

“Before my parents divorced, my dad used to come to every soccer game. It was just a rec team and I was like five when I started, but he still never missed one. When they got divorced and he moved to Savannah, I became convinced that I couldn’t play soccer without him there. For some reason I equated him with my ability to play soccer. My mom couldn’t come to every game, but she told me that she’d be my good luck charm at the first game and then she told me the only way to keep the good luck throughout the season is to get some ice cream and then lay down in the grass and find pictures in the clouds - now we do the stars because since middle school, most of my games are at night. I believed her and even now that I know that the only person that can make me a good soccer player is me, we can’t kick the habit,” he explains.

“That is absolutely adorable,” I tell him.

“I want you to come.” He’s looking down at the kitchen table.

It takes me over a minute to say anything. “I don’t know about that. This is a thing between you and your mom,” I say slowly. I don’t want to mess this up, so I pick my next words carefully. “I want to say yes, I really do. But I think there are some things that I shouldn’t be a part of yet. There are some things that should just be you and your mom. And that’s okay. You’re mom started this tradition not to be your good luck charm, but to show you how much she loves you and how much she believes in you. Let her keep showing you that. And we’ll find our own way for me to show you that I love you and believe in you.”

Bram looks disappointed, but he also looks like he understands.

“Why don’t you get ice cream with us and we’ll drop you home after that?” Bram’s mom asks from the doorway. Bram and I both turn. I had no idea that she was standing there and judging by Bram’s expression, he didn’t either. I don’t understand why he looks so flustered until I realize what she overheard.

“Are you sure?” I ask after deciding that I’m going to pretend that she didn’t hear the last thing I said. “I don’t want to overstep.”

“You won’t be,” she assures me. She bites her lip and looks so much like Bram in that moment… or maybe Bram looks like her. I don’t know how that works. “I didn’t realize you two are so serious. You must really love my son to be willing to give up a night with him so he can spend some time with me. I want to tell you that you’re too young. I want to tell you that you can’t possibly know what love is. But I don’t believe that.” She shakes her head. “I want to share some of this night with you, even if it just means that I’ll be able to get to know you a little better. Bram and I can look at the stars after we drop you off.”

My face is on fire. I know it is, because all I’m aware of is the intense heat I’m emitting. I can’t say anything, so I just nod.

“Thanks,” Bram says softly.

“Now I really need to get ready for work. But I’ll see you when I get back,” she promises.

Bram gets up to make sure she’s really gone this time and when he sits down again, I’m not sure what to say. I really blame his mother. Who listens in to conversations from a doorway?

We’re silent for almost ten minutes until he clears his throat. “When are you going to tell your parents?”

“I was going to say after school, but I think your mom is expecting you,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “She can wait. I know exactly what she wants to talk about,” he tells me matter-of-factly. I tilt my head and look at him curiously. “Another sex talk.”

I feel my face getting hot. “Do you think we should talk about that before she does?”

He bites his lip. “I would really like to tell her we haven’t talked about it yet. I think that’s the best way to avoid a truly scarring conversation.”

I nod seriously. “Makes sense. I want my name as uninvolved in that conversation as possible or you might change your mind.”

He chuckles. “That sounds unlikely.” His mom comes back downstairs and kisses his cheek before she leaves for work. He looks embarrassed. “She doesn’t do that everyday,” he says.

“I think it’s cute,” I tell him seriously. It actually makes me a little wistful. Things haven’t really been the same with my family since I came out to them. Weirdly, it started to get better after I got drunk, but that all disappeared on Sunday. It was like one step forward three hundred steps back. I’ll admit, I was an asshole. But honestly, personal space. If I don’t want to talk about something, I should be entitled to wallow.

He rolls his eyes. I think he expected me to make fun of him or something, which blows my mind. “I’ve got to do the dishes.”

I glance at the clock on the wall. We still have almost an hour until we have to leave for school. “I’ll help.”

He ends up washing while I dry and honestly, it feels so freaking domestic. I don’t even know what to think about it. I feel like our whole relationship timeline is completely out of whack. Doing dishes together feels like something you do after you’ve been together months and you’re past the whole going-out-for-dates thing and instead you decide to stay in and cook a meal together. Or maybe I’m over-romanticizing it. Yeah, probably.

When we finish, he looks at me uncertainly. “What do you want to do now?”

I wink at him. “I can think of a few ways to pass the time.”

We end up back in his bedroom. He pulled out his homework, but we honestly haven’t even glanced at his textbook. I don’t know what he expected, but when we straighten ourselves out and try to look like we weren’t just kissing like we were in a competition, he recovers his books and doesn’t look too upset that we didn’t do homework.

School is weird. I feel like I’m trying a little too hard to pretend that i’m not hopelessly in love with Bram that I’m making it really obvious. But if anyone figures it out, they don’t say anything. Not even Abby, which makes me think I’m doing a better job then I think. By the time school is over, I’m antsy and nervous. Bram can’t skip practice for a second time, so I sit in the bleachers while he practices. I hypothetically could go home since we’re each driving our own cars to my place, but I’m not ready to face my parents yet. He has his stuff with him so he can leave right away. I pretend to be doing homework, but really I’m watching him. There’s something mesmerizing about his focus while he’s playing. 

I’m so enraptured by him, I don’t notice that Garrett is taking a break until he says, “he’s pretty good, right?”

I nearly jump a foot in the air. “Jesus. Sorry. I didn’t realize you were here,” I say. My heart is pounding and the fear hasn’t quite left my chest.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a shrug. He almost looks proud of himself.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“Bram refused to tell me why the two of you disappeared yesterday, but I was able to put two and two together,” he says. I open my mouth to play dumb, but he holds up his hand. “I have something I need to say. You’re nice enough, but I’ve seen how Bram’s been pining for you. Even before he came out to me, it was obvious he was gone for someone. Before you like start something with him, you better make sure that you’re in it for the long haul. Because he definitely is and he doesn’t deserve to get hurt.”

I don’t expect this from Garrett and I think that’s obvious to him by the way I’m staring at him with my mouth agape. “I won’t… I wouldn’t…” But I’m kinda incapable of a coherent thought.

“I’m not asking you to promise me you won’t hurt him. I’m just telling you that you better be sure. Because… and don’t you dare tell him I told you this, I’m pretty sure he loves you. He was crushed when you didn’t know who he was. I like you, but Bram’s my best friend. And it’s my job to make sure he’s okay.”

“I will make you that promise though,” I manage to get out. “I…” I look down at the bleachers. It was so easy to tell Bram this. “I love him too. I know that I hurt him, just like he knows he hurt me. We’re gonna continue to work through all that.”

“Good,” Garrett says. He looks appeased.

He glances out at the field just as their coach blows the whistle. I watch Bram grab his stuff and then he heads towards the bleachers. He’s a little sweaty, but I don’t mind. “Powers is calling it early,” he tells Garrett. “He’s not feeling well.” Garrett nods and leaves. “What was that about?”

“He told me not to hurt you,” I say with a shrug. I can’t help but grin at how mortified he looks. “I think it’s sweet.”

He shakes his head. “I’m going to have to have a long talk with him about boundaries,” Bram grumbles.

“He means well. And it’s not like he knows the intimate details of our relationship. He has every right to be worried,” I point out. Bram still looks troubled. “Are you ready to meet my parents?”

I think I effectively distract him, because suddenly he looks terrified. But he nods, so that’s something. He follows me to my house.

When we walk in, I go straight to the living room. It’s where my parents can be found like 99% of the time, so I’m not surprised when they’re both there.

“Hey,” I say quietly. “This is Bram.” The way my mom’s face lights up, I know I’m right. She knows. It’s not necessary, but I still add, “my boyfriend”, just to confirm her suspicions.

“It’s nice to meet you,” my dad says. He shakes Bram’s hand.

My parents aren’t too bad. Sure, they ask him a million and one questions, but I can tell that they’re dying to talk to me.

I think Bram senses that too, because after only an hour, he excuses himself. I walk him to the door and after a quick kiss, he tells me to call him later.

When I get back inside, I debate going to my room and pretending I don’t realize they wanted to talk to me. But I have to face them. If I have any chance of ever not being grounded again, I have to pretend to be an adult.

I go to the living room and fight the urge to immediately go on the defensive. My parents had turned off the TV and are looking at me expectantly. “I’m sorry. For everything that’s happened these last few weeks. I know I’ve been kinda a shitty son and it’s not all because of a guy…”

I cut myself off as my mom climbs to her feet. She doesn’t walk directly towards me. Moreso, she circles the coffee table so that she’s just a few feet away from me. “You haven’t been a shitty son. You’ve been going through a tough time at school and you’re right: we should have recognized that not everything is about us.” I shake my head. As if I didn’t feel like enough of an asshole about everything I said after the carnival and yesterday morning. Before I have the chance to say anything, she continues, “I’m serious. We’re not upset about that and you can consider yourself ungrounded for now. I haven’t seen you smile like you did today in years.” My mom looks away and I’m surprised to see she’s crying. “I thought you were happy, but…”

“I was happy,” I tell her surprised. And I genuinely mean that. Yeah, I’m happier now that I have Bram in my life, but I wasn’t always unhappy before I got outed. I feel like a was a relatively normal teenager with ups and downs.

She shakes her head. “Not like this. It’s like you were going through the motions.”

“So if I’m not in trouble, then what’s going on?” I ask.

“Sit down,” my mom says.

I do and I look at her nervously. She sits on the ottoman in front of me and my dad stands behind her. What happened? If I’m not being grounded, something really bad must have happened.

“You’re not in trouble, but we need to talk to you,” my mom says. She glances at my dad then back at me. “Your father and I had a long talk last night about everything you told us.”

“I was just upset. I didn’t mean…”

“Let us get this out,” my dad snaps. My mom hasn’t looked angry once, but my dad looks pissed. I have a feeling the ungrounding was all my mom’s idea.

“Jack,” my mom says softly. He nods and takes a deep breath. “We had a long talk.” She waits to see if I am going to say anything, but I couldn’t if I tried. I can count on one hand how many times my dad has yelled at me. And now it’s twice in two weeks. He’s usually more of the calm angry parent, so I’m not sure what to expect from this conversation. “We realize we may have been a little suffocating and that your behavior these last few weeks may have been as much because of us as it was because of you.”

“No-” one look from my dad and I cut myself off.

“We’re not taking complete fault for that, but we acknowledge that we didn’t make your coming out experience easy. We put a bandaid on it after you came home that one night, but we never thought to talk about it. More than that, we never thought to apologize. We thought…” My dad glares at her. “Okay, I thought that this would be our opportunity to start over. We could get everything out tonight and then we could move forward from this.” I’m not sure if I’m allowed to speak yet, so I just nod. “Good. Now I know you hate when I go into therapist mode, but we’re going to do something I do when I’m meeting with families or couples. We’re going to take turns.” I resist the urge to tell her that’s something I learned in kindergarten. “This will only work if you’re really honest with us; do you understand?”

“Yes,” I say. I’m pretty sure this is going to be complete BS, but if it’s going to make everything go back to normal, I’m willing to try it.

“We’ll start. You need to tell us if you’re not going to be home.” I don’t expect this to be what she starts with. Somehow, I thought it was going to be more about what I said on Sunday. “We shouldn’t hear from your sister that she thinks your with a friend and she’s not sure when you’ll be back. And you definitely shouldn’t ignore our phone calls.”

I suddenly pat my pocket. I actually have no idea where my phone is. I spent every waking (and sleeping) minute with Bram yesterday and they block the wireless at school, so I haven’t really given it a second thought. I wonder if I left it at Bram’s. He gave me his number this morning and that’s the last time I can definitely say I had it. “I’m sorry. I don’t know where my phone is.” Then, because my mom said I needed to be honest, I add, “I saw your missed calls this morning, but I wasn’t ready to talk to you.” My mom waits patiently for me to gather my thoughts. “It’s like I came out to you and it became more about you than me.”

“Would you care to elaborate?” My mom asks.

“I dunno,” I say. “It’s like I’m the family project. You don’t care that I’m gay. Dad doesn’t mean the gay jokes. Let’s talk about what being gay means for the family. And it’s just like… we’re not freaking gay. I am.”

My mom nods thoughtfully. “So you felt like we were minimizing your individual experience by making it about us,” she clarifies.

I don’t know how she got that from what I said, but I guess that’s why they pay her the big bucks to be a therapist. The moment she says it, I just kinda feel like YES. That’s what I was trying to say. “Yeah,” I agree. “And I love you all, I really do. But being gay sometimes sucks and it’s like I couldn’t talk about that because you were all going through your own thing.”

“So talk to us now,” my mom urges.

I sigh. “It’s not so bad, I guess. It’s better with Bram. Before… it was like… lonely, I guess. You can’t really understand what it’s like to be gay. Because it’s not necessarily people making these huge homophobic gestures… well, only a few. Mostly it’s kids discreetly calling me fag or making gestures towards me.”

My mom closes her eyes. “Can you elaborate on the just a few huge homophobic gestures?”

Uh oh… that wasn’t supposed to come out. “Um… you know how kids are.”

“If you don’t tell me, I will get Ms. Knight on the phone. I have her cell,” my mom warns.

I internally groan. I knew this was gonna be a shitshow. “It’s really nothing. Just one kid pretending to kiss me and a small incident during play practice the day break ended.” My mom glares at me. “I’m serious. It was nothing. Ms. Albright handled it.”

“Why weren’t we told about this?” She asks.

I shrug and she continues to glare at me. “What? It’s not like I told them to keep it from you. I don’t know.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about… though, the school absolutely should have told us. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want it to turn into… this,” I said, gesturing between us. “This big deal.”

“This is happening because you bottled shit up,” my mom deadpans. I stare. It’s not like she never curses, but she tries to limit it around us. “This leads us to our second point. You have to tell us when stuff like this happens. Or else we think you’re being moody and defiant for no reason.”

I sigh. “Can’t you just know me enough to know that I’m not moody and defiant for no reason?”

She shakes her head. “We can’t help you if you don’t talk to us.”

“What if I don’t want to talk to you about this stuff?” I ask. “It’s not you. There’s just some stuff that’s mine and that I need to work through by myself.”

My mom frowns and looks away. “How about this. You tell us when big stuff like what happened at play practice happen and we’ll trust you enough not to pry further than what you’re willing to share. But you have to give us something. We’re your parents and we have a responsibility to make sure that you’re safe and happy.”

I nod. “I think I can live with that. As long as you can live with this: I don’t expect you to be uninvolved in my relationship with Bram, but I need you to treat it like any relationship. Don’t make it more of a big deal because I’m gay.”

My mom frowns. “I don’t think we can do that. Like you said, it’s hard to be gay - I may not know that personally, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that. It’s even harder to be with someone that’s going to make your life more difficult. And I’m so proud of you for being true to yourself. We’re going to make this a bigger deal, because it is a bigger deal. It’s harder for you and we see that.”

I never really thought of that, but maybe I haven't been giving them enough credit. Because what she just said makes me feel like they do kinda get it.

After that, things flow a little smoother. My dad is quiet until we both acknowledge that this wasn’t the worst idea in the world and maybe it’s a good idea to get everything out there. The more we talk, the more I feel like we’re actually getting somewhere. I feel raw and tired afterwards, but in a weightless kind of way. When my dad hugs me, I hold onto him like a lifeline.

By the time I get to bed, it’s well after midnight. I send Bram an email, hoping he’ll see it so he can check for my phone and then I collapse in bed.

Two weeks later, I’m sandwiched in between Leah and Abby as we watch the first soccer scrimmage of the season. Leah occasionally shoots me a smug look, but it’s justified so I don’t mind. Plus, I give her credit for even acknowledging me. She’s the kind of person that can really hold a grudge. Like, she could probably win an award for it. But I actually begged her to come tonight. I even told her about Bram and it seemed to do wonders when I told her that Nick and Abby didn’t know yet. We’re not back to normal yet, but I think we might get there.

I was terrified to tell Bram that I told Leah (so terrified, I avoided it for two days), but the moment I got the words out he told me I should tell Abby and Nick too, but I haven’t been able to yet. I don’t know what it is. Maybe it’s because I know that Abby’s gonna freak, in a good way, but she will freak nonetheless. Or that Nick’s gonna try way too hard to be cool about it (I love Nick like a brother, but he’s definitely out of his element with me being gay - he’s trying though and that’s all I can ask for). Or maybe it’s because things have literally been so freaking perfect these last two weeks. I don’t want anything to break the magic between us. Or maybe it’s even because no one can freaking beat Leah’s reaction of ‘I ship it.’

Four minutes before half-time, it happens. Bram and this kid from the other team go for the ball at the same time. It happens so fast, I’m not sure exactly what happened, but suddenly they’re both on the ground. And the other kid climbs to his feet, but Bram stays down.

I’m on my feet and I ignore Abby as I run closer to the fence to try to see what’s happening. My heart is actually pounding as I watch Garrett wave their coach over. The panic on Garrett’s face is obvious, even from where I’m standing. This is what fear feels like. It wasn’t going back to school after being outed or nerves before a performance. This is it.

Suddenly all I can think about is Randy Williams. He was a senior, really popular, a varsity football player. He was going to play in college. Until one game during the playoffs where something went wrong and he ended up with a fractured neck. That happened my freshman year and he’s still at some special physical rehabilitation center. We get occasional updates from his little sister - she’s a year younger than us. He still can’t walk and his last milestone was that he was able to feed himself. It’s scary as hell. And what if that’s what happened to Bram? I never thought that he could get hurt during a freaking soccer game.

All the players kneel down as Bram’s coach and the athletic trainer rush the field. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his mom enter the field. She meets my gaze and nods. That’s all it takes. I practically sprint for the opening in the fence and follow her towards Bram. Someone, I’m not sure who, tries to stop me, but she waves them off.

She near Bram when she gets there. She doesn’t try to touch him, but I can see her eyes scouring him. She may not be the kind of doctor that actually treats people, but she did go through med school and knows just about everything there is to know about the human body. Without prompting, Garrett explains, “I think that kid elbowed him in the head as he was going down. Something didn’t sound right when he landed, but I didn’t want to move him.”

Bram is lying awkwardly with his arm pinned under him. His mom talks to the athletic trainer and then stands up. “I have to make a call. Stay with him.”

I’m probably giving everything away as I sink to my knees next to him. I don’t realize he’s conscious until I hear him groan. The athletic trainer helps him roll so he can free his arm which honestly makes him look like he’s in even more pain. Like his mom, I don’t try to interrupt the process and when he looks towards me, I don’t break the eye contact. I rest my hand so my pinky is just touching the side of his hand.

He smiles for a split second before he winces. I probably should have been paying more attention, because suddenly the athletic trainer is helping him to his feet. He almost falls down again, but Garrett ducks under his arm to support his weight. He holds the arm around Garrett’s shoulder gingerly and it looks swollen. Bram looks at me expectantly and raises his other arm slightly; it takes me a minute to realize that he wants me to support him on his other side. I obediently duck under his partially raised arm. He squeezes my shoulder and I have a feeling that has nothing to do with his ankle.

We lead him to the bench and even though Garrett leaves once he sits down, I stay next to him and he doesn’t move his arm from around my shoulders. I turn to look at him to let him know that if he doesn’t move it, people are going to jump to conclusions - the right conclusions, but conclusions nonetheless. The words die on my lips when I realize he’s staring at me.

I barely hear what’s happening around us, but after a few minutes he looks away and I’m surprised to see an EMT standing in front of him. I guess this is routine, because Bram’s mom signs something saying that he doesn’t need to ride in the ambulance. I help Bram to her car and hesitate outside the door before I close it. Is there where I’m supposed to go back to the game?

She chuckles. “Get in.” I obediently slide into the back seat with Bram and within minutes, we are at the hospital. Bram is only in the waiting room like two minutes before a nurse calls his name.

He turns to look at his mom as he’s ushered into a wheelchair. “How am I cutting the line?” he asks. There’s a slight accusatory tone to his voice.

“The CDC being overstaffed has its perks,” she says smugly. “I called in a favor. Bill is coming in too.”

“Bill?” I ask curiously.

“Dr. Murphy,” Bram supplies as if that clears up everything. He must see my confusion. “He’s the hospital’s on call… I don’t know what his actual title is, but he looks at broken bones and puts casts on people.” He turns his attention back to his mom. “My ankle is not broken.”

“No, but I’d bet your arm is,” his mom retorts. We attempted to get him to move his fingers while we were in the car and he was able to move them some, but not enough to convince his mom he didn’t break something.

Bram apparently won the lottery of injuries, because by the time we leave the hospital, he’s been given a cast for his arm (his mom was right - he fractured it in two places. But apparently he broke it right so it’s going to heal pretty naturally), a boot for his ankle, and strict instructions about what to do for his concussion.

We’re in the car when Bram realizes his mom is taking me home. “No, no, no,” he says quickly. “We were promised ice cream.”

“You’re concussed,” his mom reminds him.

“Which means limited computer, phone, and TV time and no bright lights,” Bram points out. “It doesn’t mean that we can’t get ice cream.”

I didn’t know that Bram cared about ice cream so much, but he refuses to budge on it. So his mom turns around and heads to the only ice cream parlor that’s open in the middle of the winter.

When we get there, his mom doesn’t want him going inside the bright parlor, so she leaves me outside with him with strict instructions to keep  _ only _ my eyes on him. She’s giving me the same look Dr. Murphy gave me when he said Bram shouldn’t engage in any strenuous activities for three days. Except Dr. Murphy grinned and winked at me and I’m pretty sure Bram’s mom isn’t going to do that.

Once she’s gone, I turn to Bram. “I’m really glad you’re okay. I was really worried,” I tell him. Seriously. No one tells you about that part of being in a relationship. I think I was more scared for him than I’ve ever been for myself.

“I’m not that badly hurt,” he points out. He caresses my cheek and I’m suddenly wondering if kissing is too strenuous.

“Yeah, but you are hurt,” I retort. I shake my head and close my eyes. “I’m just really, really glad that you’re okay. And you should know… I think I may have given everything away. There’s no way this isn’t going to spread around school and I’m really sorry, but I saw you lying there and I couldn’t stay in the bleachers and-” I’m cut off by his lips on mine. I immediately pull back. “The doctor said…”

“He said no strenuous activity,” Bram says. “This isn’t strenuous.”

“Speak for yourself,” I mutter. I allow another small kiss, before I just pull him close to me. It’s a little awkward at first because his arm is casted and is in a sling and his clunky, booted foot is hard to figure out as he shifts, but we manage and honestly, I feel like this is exactly what I need.

I don’t need a big, passionate kiss to show him I love him, or something big and grand to show my relief. He already knows all that. I need to feel the heat he’s radiating as I hold him. I need to feel the soft pounding of his heart mixing with mine. I need to feel his soft breath on my cheek. I need to hold him tight with two arms to compensate for him only having one functional arm. I need to feel him burrow his head into my chest like it belongs there. I need to hear him whisper ‘I love you’ in my ear. For a few minutes, I need this proof that he’s here, he’s okay, and he’s mine.


End file.
